


The One Where Draco was a Frog

by anemonen, blithelybonny, dracogotgame, epeverell, Nherizu, roelliej, slashedsilver, xonceinadream



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 16:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1395052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemonen/pseuds/anemonen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/blithelybonny/pseuds/blithelybonny, https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracogotgame/pseuds/dracogotgame, https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeverell/pseuds/epeverell, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nherizu/pseuds/Nherizu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/roelliej/pseuds/roelliej, https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashedsilver/pseuds/slashedsilver, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xonceinadream/pseuds/xonceinadream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco was a happy little frog living in his nice little pond minding his own business. Until the one day that would change it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Draco was a Frog

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Round Robin for Team Lions at the 2014 Wizarding Games at [hd_writers](http://hd-writers.livejournal.com/) at Livejournal. Unbeta'd.
> 
>  **Authors:** kitty_fic, dracogotgame, xonceinadream, roelliej, swissmarg, slashedsilver, anemonen, nherizu, blithelybonny, epeverell, praevarus
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** The characters belong to J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made by this fan work.

Once upon a time, there was a frog named Draco. He hadn't always been a frog, as far as he could remember. In fact that part of his memory was a little fuzzy. He vaguely remembered a large house of stone and a soft voice speaking to him. Although the memory seemed pleasant, Draco was perfectly happy in his little pond and had no intention of leaving it.

Until, of course, the Incident. There was splashing and boots in his face and the abject terror of nearly being squished. And then he was hanging upside down, looking into the eyes of someone he’d always loathed. It was Weasley…

“Weasley, you prat! Put me down this instant!” Draco yelled, though it only came out as a loud, unpleasant croaking sound. Why he had the misfortune of having to live in a pond on the same compound as the Weasleys, he would never quite figure out. He was no longer sure how long he had been there- days or weeks maybe- it was all starting to blend together.

He had just been hopping about his pond, lounging on his favorite lilypad, and minding his own business. It was all quite unfair that he now found himself suspended by one leg in the grubby hands of a Weasley. His least favourite Weasley at that, although the competition was stiff.

He was shouting something as he excitedly brandished Draco with his other hand. Draco felt his guts shift and his vision spin.

“Honestly, Ron,” said another voice and a bushy head came into view. “Stop harassing that poor frog and bring him up to the house.”

On the bright side the spinning subsided; however, now an unknown fate awaited him in the Weasley house.

“Ugly little hopper, aren’t you?” Weasley commented, brushing his thumb against Draco’s head. Draco puffed up indignantly and croaked out a few choice insults that would have incited an outraged gasp and a thirty minute lecture from Mother, had she been here. Now that he thought about it, where _was_ Mother?

“Huh,” Granger commented, eyeing him quizzically. “Careful, Ron. I think you offended him.”

“He’s a frog, Mione,” Weasley laughed.

“Of course,” Granger replied slowly. But she still kept a suspicious eye on Draco as they entered the Weasley hovel.

Draco was moving as much as he could in Ron’s hold, obviously trying to get away from Weasley. He didn’t want to go in there. Absolutely not. It was probably unclean! And he knew unclean. He lived in a pond. A pond he had really enjoyed up until the moment he realized that it was on Weasley property. No wonder it was such a disgusting pond.

The Weasley house was exactly as he had imagined it in his youth -- all cluttered and mismatched furniture and obviously common. He supposed he didn’t have much room to talk, what with being a frog at the moment, but still -- it was entirely too plebian for his sophisticated tastes.

“Ronald Weasley! Why on earth did you bring a frog into the house?”

Draco looked into the eyes of a fat, ugly woman; her wand pointed towards him. It was the mother hen…

“Please bring it back to the pond,” she said; her wand-hand shaking uncontrollably.

“Mum, it’s just a frog.” Weasley tried the best he could to suppress a giggle. Merlin, he hated the lot of them.

“Outside!” she said to her spawn.

“Wait.”

He knew that voice. Draco turned his head and nearly fainted. _Oh f-_

As if his luck and his day couldn’t get any worse there stood _Potter_ and Draco did _not_ like the look that was in his eyes. It was suspicion and oh, Draco was pretty sure this was not going to be good.

Desperate, Draco attempted to escape once again. This time he managed to wriggle himself out of Weasley’s grasp and landed on the floor, hopping towards the door as fast as he could. All he had to do now was get past Potter and he would be free. Unfortunately there was a reason why Harry Potter had become the youngest Hogwarts seeker in a century, and his reflexes hadn’t lessened over the years. Just as Draco felt the first waft of fresh air a hand closed around his slippery body.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Potter soothed, cupping Draco’s small body in his palms. Oddly enough, it was a calming sensation- quite unlike Weasley’s clumsy pawing. Draco settled down, still observing Potter warily.

“You’re a long way from home,” Potter commented, handling him carefully. “What’s a nice Borneo Jungle Frog like you doing here?”

“You know what type of frog this is?” Granger asked. Evidently, she was distinctly uncomfortable with the idea of Potter knowing something she didn’t.

Potter shrugged. “Neville used to go on about them. Remember Trevor? He was an exotic breed too, apparently.”

Draco shuddered. As if he had anything in common with anything that had ever been in Neville Longbottom’s possession. Potter must have felt his shudder, as he lifted his hands to his face and peered in between his fingers at his captive. Pure green eyes blinked down at Draco.

“You look familiar in a way,” Potter muttered, as he softly caressed Draco. He closed his eyes and he became one with Potter’s touch. It felt...nice. “Very strange.”

“Could we change the subject?” Weasley snapped. “It’s just a fucking frog,” he added silently.

“No, there’s something special about this frog,” Harry said stubbornly. “Mrs. Weasley, may I Floo-call Neville?”

Mother Weasley acquiesced and Potter approached the Floo. Soon enough, Longbottom’s face appeared in the flames.

“Harry,” he greeted. “How are you, mate? I wasn’t expecting…”

“Hey Neville,” Potter replied with a smile. “Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to check something. Do you have any idea why this little fellow was in a pond at the Burrow?”

He held out his palm for Longbottom to see. Draco puffed up, trying to look intimidating. However, neither he nor Potter were prepared for Longbottom’s reaction.

“Oh thank _Merlin!_ ” Longbottom blurted in evident relief. “You found him!”

Draco didn’t like that expression on Longbottom’s face. It spoke disaster. Tragedy. He felt Potter’s hands gripping him tighter and he let out a squeak. Thankfully, frogs didn’t squeak, so Draco was saved from the humiliation. Not that croaking was any better, but at least it was manlier.

“Him?” Potter’s voice was tense. “What do you mean? Isn’t this one of yours?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Longbottom mumbled. Even through the flames, Draco could tell he was scarlet with embarrassment.

“What does that mean?” Potter demanded.

“Harry, before I say anything can you promise not to judge me?”

Potter blinked. “Okay, now I’m concerned on a number of levels.”

Longbottom fidgeted fretfully with his sleeves. “Do you remember Malfoy, by any chance?”

“Of course I remember Malfoy!” Potter snapped. “He disappeared a month ago, the whole Auror force is out looking for him. What does that have to do with...”

He trailed off and his eyes widened.

“Do you mean to say…?”

“Erm… yes.”

Draco looked from one to the other. What were they talking about? And why did everyone look so shocked?

"Tell me it wasn't one of your experiments." Potter's voice held steel.

"What? No!" Longbottom exclaimed. "It was _purely_ an accident. I had no idea he was allergic to Amphibious Beans." Then he drew himself up and remembered to look offended. "And I only experiment on _plants_."

"And you didn't think about turning him _back_?"

"How? He refused to touch the beans after that. Even when I charmed them to look like insects." Longbottom looked harassed. "And you know that magically transformed frogs can only be turned back with True Love's Kiss. Where was I going to find him a true love?"

“That’s a real thing? I thought that was just a story!”

“Where do you think they got the idea, Harry?”

“I can’t...I’m not even...look, you have to fix this!”

“I can’t! Believe me, I tried!”

“How did you...wait. You didn’t...did you _kiss_ him?”

Longbottom went scarlet again. “I am neither confirming nor denying that,” he replied firmly. “Suffice it to say, I am _definitely_ not his true love.”

Draco interrupted them with an angry croak, a bit miffed at being so rudely ignored. Potter turned to him with a worried expression.

“Then we have to find his true love …?” Potter’s voice was uncertain, and he was staring at Draco as if the idea of finding Draco’s true love was revolting. Wait, finding Draco’s _true love_ …?

“That’s a good idea. You know, maybe we can start from you to …” Longbottom trailed off as Potter’s jaw hung open.

“You didn’t just tell me to—“ Potter spluttered, and Longbottom laughed awkwardly, wiping his brow.

“There’s no harm to try, Harry.”

“No, no, no. Absolutely not. I’m not kissing a _frog_!”

Draco stared at Potter in disbelief. _What?_

“He’s not really a frog, Harry. You’re kissing Malfoy.”

_What, what, what?_

“I don’t really see how _that_ makes it better!” Potter snapped.

Draco let out an offended croak, but Longbottom and Potter ignored him. Typical. Of course it wouldn’t occur to them to ask Draco how _he_ felt about the prospect of being kissed by Potter.

“Well...please don’t be mad, Harry.” Longbottom looked up at Potter nervously. “But we didn’t think you’d mind much.”

“We?!” Potter exclaimed. “You’ve discussed this with other people? Fantastic.”

“Well, you’ve always been a bit more… interested in him than most people,” Longbottom said. He wouldn’t quite meet Potter’s eyes. “I thought that perhaps you wanted him?”

Potter flushed crimson and spluttered.

“Okay, okay, calm down, Harry. Just forget what I said. Think of it as a favor to me. I gotta turn him back somehow, and right now you’re my only hope,” Longbottom pleaded. Malfoy would have thought this was laughably pathetic, except for the whole being turned into a frog thing.

Draco considered his options: be kissed by Potter or remain a frog forever. He was thinking… thinking…

“Okay fine, Neville. But if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone…”

Still thinking… Potter was closing his eyes… oh dear… puckering his lips… maybe life as a frog wouldn’t be half bad…

“Ugh!” Potter shuddered and pulled away at the last second with a look of disgust. “I can’t. I’m sorry, I just can’t! He’s bloody _revolting_.”

Draco oozed some mucus on to Potter’s palm just because he could.

“Ew!” Potter shrilled, wiping his hands off. “You did that on purpose!”

Draco croaked smugly.

“Harry, just do it!” Longbottom snapped. “I’ll count you down, okay? On three.”

Draco stiffened. Did he say _on three?_

“One…”

Now hang on…

“Two…”

Now, wait just a…

“Three!”

And then, Potter leaned in and planted a wet one right on Draco’s head.

Draco felt a shiver run through his body as Potter's lips touched him. And then he realised it wasn't just a figure of speech -- his body was shaking and heaving, like it was trying to throw something out. Draco hoped to Merlin that he wouldn't end up being sick over Potter's shoes. Another shudder, and his body was growing, elongating, pushing out into a thin, spindly frame.

Draco was vaguely aware that he was sprawled out and dry heaving on the floor. A worried hand stroked his back. As the temptation to retch finally passed, Draco leaned, somewhat exhausted, on the arm that had settled firmly around his body. His naked body. His no longer frog sized naked body. His mind took about two seconds to catch up with the reality of the situation.

“Well … isn’t this something.” Granger’s grating voice cut through the awkward silence that had descended upon the room, as Draco tried his best to come back to himself.

“Granger,” he then said, tone croaky -- perhaps it was something that wasn’t easy to get rid of -- “I would appreciate it very much if you shut your mouth, please.” He stood up, back ramrod straight, with his hands strategically placed in front of himself. “And if someone would be so kind as to retrieve something for me to wear, I would be most grateful.”

He kept his eyes studiously away from Potter … Potter who was his True Love.

“Of course,” Granger replied briskly as she left. “I’ll be right back. Neville, close your mouth. It’s rude to stare.”

Draco glared as Longbottom sputtered in protest before staring resolutely at the ceiling. He had half a mind to ask the prat if he liked what he saw, but Potter acted first. “We’ll talk about this later,” he informed Longbottom tightly. Then he waved his wand and doused the fire, cutting off the Floo call.

The silence descended in the small room. Draco swallowed. It was just him and Potter now.

Oh, Merlin…

Potter reached out towards him, and Draco flinched away. Unfortunately his brain hadn’t quite got used to his less amphibious body yet, and the motion sent him sprawling head first into a threadbare armchair. Getting up quickly to regain his dignity, he turned and looked at Potter. Potter was staring at him with a slack-jawed expression and glazed eyes.

"A little less staring and a towel, perhaps?" Draco said acidly, feeling strangely vulnerable.

"Right -- right, of course," Potter said, hurriedly turning away. He grabbed a throw from a nearby armchair and draped it around Draco, cheeks flushing as his fingers brushed Draco's bare shoulders by accident. “So, er -- that True Love business thing...”

“No!”

Draco -- who had been the epitome of control and rationality so far, especially considering his horrific circumstances -- descended into complete hysterics at the mention of the ominous ‘L-word’. He pointed a damning finger in Potter’s face to better emphasise his point. “No no no!”

“Malfoy, calm down. I just…”

“No no no **no!** ”

“Malfoy, breathe. I know you’ve had a rough time of it but…”

“No! No no no no no…”

“Malfoy!” Potter grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a rough shake. “Will you _please_ get a hold of yourself?!”

Draco stabbed a vicious finger into Potter’s chest. “That’s easy for you to say! You’re not the one who spent one month as a squatting, croaking, insect-eating amphibian!”

He slumped into the nearest armchair and put his face in his hands. It was just too much. How was he supposed to deal with all of this at once?

Potter shuffled uncomfortably and patted his shoulder. “Um...there there?” he offered uncertainly.

Draco growled and he retreated a few paces. Draco glowered as Potter regarded him with a mix of concern and sympathy. “It’s okay now,” he spoke up again. Draco’s shoulders slumped. He had to admit he was relieved and even a tiny bit...grateful.

But there was still the famous Malfoy-pride to be dealt with. Draco would never admit that he actually liked the kiss.

“I know it’s okay now,” Draco snapped. “I just need a moment…”

“Do you want me to do it again?” Potter whispered.

“Excuse me?” Draco said, although he was pretty sure he heard it loud and clear.

“Do you want me to do it again?” Potter repeated. “Kissing you, I mean?”

Malfoy plunged his fingers into his ears as he tried to block out Potter’s words.

“I am not listening to this. I am not listening to this. I am…”

His mantra was interrupted by Potter’s lips on his. He was determined not to go down without a fight, but his rising cock was betraying him...again! He should have expected it. Living as a frog in a pond didn’t exactly provide ample opportunity for sexual release. Before he knew what was happening, his hands were buried in those unruly black tresses and he was kissing Potter back.

Potter, who was his True Love!

Breathless, Draco pulled back and looked at Potter, searchingly, trying to find something in the Gryffindor’s stupidly honest face that betrayed how this was a trick. Because it had to be a trick. It couldn’t possibly be real. He loathed Potter, didn’t he? Draco absolutely loathed him, with his hideously messy hair and his too-big clothes and his stupidly, impossibly green eyes that were the same color as this pretty little clump of moss that grew in his favorite part of his pond…

“What are you looking at?” Potter then asked, a rosy flush creeping into his cheeks.

_Ah, fuck it._

“My One True Love,” Draco answered and leaned in again.


End file.
